You walk west and find yourself standing in front of an enormous tavern, the sort of establishment in which many unsavory characters may be found, along with the occasional mysterious quest-providing stranger. In front of the tavern a drunkard weaves back and forth in severe inebriation. Scandalous! In his hand he holds a large jug of avocado beer. Upon sighting you, he stumbles over and attempts to shake your hand. With significant slurring, he informs you that he's offering a substantial reward for the return of his adorable pet, a being he calls "Solomon Fluffbottom the 3rd". When asked, he declines to tell you what happened to the 1st and 2nd. He accuses a local businessman of Solomon's disappearance.

To your north is the projects.To your west is the tavern.To your east, slum street continues.To your south, slum street continues.

The sloshed one seems evasive, but after several well placed anecdotes on your extensive history in the art of cricket, you manage to extract some information out of him. According to the man, "Solomon" is one of the rare Land Walruses, a species highly sought after for its luxurious fur coats, which it painstakingly crafts from nearby felines.

To your north is the projects.To your west is the tavern.To your east, slum street continues.To your south, slum street continues.

You stride through the door of the tavern, immediately being required to dodge an airborne mug and what may have been its owner. Feeling somewhat ruffled, but otherwise unharmed, you assess your surroundings.

A group of ridiculously over-muscled fellows play cards at a humorously tiny table by the fireplace. Somewhat strangely, each carries an enormous medieval weapon of some sort, whether it be stabby, choppy, or smashy. Upon further inspection, you notice that their deck is constructed of tanned and dried reptilian leather, the sort of which your Aunt Rita might make an umbrella case out of.

At the bar stands one of the fattest men you have ever seen, easily weighing upwards of 30 pumpkins! He looks extremely bored, and replies to any drink orders with a noncommittal grunt, driving off potential drunkards with a dismissive wave of his meaty hand.

Over in the corner, the darkness seems to coalesce into an uncannily spooky blob of plot point, partially concealing a cloaked and hooded man holding a two-handed sword and what appears to be a necklace adorned with tiny finger bones.

Thanks to the overexposure of scandalous behavior, you have become jaded, and find yourself thinking the most ungentlemanly thoughts. Good choice, I'm sure it will assist you in future job interviews. Your Acumen returns to normal.

To your north is a staircase leading upwards.To your east is slum street.

You ascend the stairs and emerge into the upper floor of the tavern. The wooden floor is adorned with plush rugs, and elaborately painted tapestries hang from the walls, giving the overall impression of either tremendous wealth or horrible fashion sense and access to a thrift store. Stepping forward, you are immediately waylaid by a shadowy figure that drifts from the corner. A tendril drifts from the center mass and extends towards you.

"Present identification, please!"

To the south a staircase leading downwards.To the north is a door blocked by a moving shadow.